Restoring classic cars: Is the juice still worth the squeeze?

As a 65-year-old serial restorer, I’m trying to come to grips with why I have done what I have done. Until recently, it hasn’t really even mattered what I was working on. More often than not, I haven’t really spent much time driving the cars I’ve restored–or even had a burning desire to own them.

I just keep restoring.

I could argue that I like almost all cars, so what does it matter what I’m working on? Or I could argue that with my wife’s chronic health issues, I needed a long-term activity that keeps me close by the house.

Or what might be closer to the truth is that I’m just crazy. Maybe long-term exposure to all the bad stuff you work with in a shop has taken its toll.

If I’m being honest, ever since I was a small child, I’ve been a puzzle builder. While I wasn’t very bright or good at sports–or much else for that matter–I would build puzzles constantly. I guess it started with building blocks. From puzzles, it grew: go-karts, bicycles, cars. I was always building and modifying stuff. 

As my body begins to age and my wife and son–who have way more common sense than I do–begin to ask some hard questions, I have to reevaluate some of my choices. 

What was I thinking? I’ve restored multiple Miatas, gotten bored with them and essentially given them away. Now I want another Miata.

I have a penchant for fiberglass specials. I love fiberglass work, kind of like a dog loves rolling in poop. “Dad, stop restoring weird fiberglass cars,” my son flat out told me. Still, I stop dead in my tracks when I see a Turner, an Elva Courier or a Devin. I would love to restore each and every one of them.

I used to tell myself that these cars would excite our readers–Mini Cooper, Bugeye Sprite, Spitfire, Corvair and now this decrepit old Morgan that we recently dragged home. I’m doing it all for them, I would tell myself. These are the cars that form the backbone of our hobby.

As I age and hopefully become a little wiser (or at least a bit more selective), I’m starting to wonder: Did I do it all for you, or for me? And as health struggles start to rear their ugly heads, I’m trying to pick my projects a little more carefully.

A few years back, I was very excited to start restoring an MG TD that I’d picked up. When I got the car up on a lift and really looked it over, however, I realized the wood was rotten, the metal was rusty, the color had been changed, and the car had been hit. 

Could I have restored it to concours condition? In my sleep! Compared to restoring the world’s worst Lotus Elan, a Tornado Typhoon (probably should have put the crack pipe down before I tackled that one) or this rare Elva sports racer I’m nearly finished with now, a TD, even arguably the worst one available, would have been easy. 

So, as a puzzle builder, occasionally I have to ask myself a hard question: Is the effort worth it? With a car, you at least have something at the end to show for it. With an actual puzzle, you finish it and rarely hang it on the wall. Generally, you just take it back apart and return the pieces to the box. 

But a jigsaw puzzle has some benefits: You don’t spend years of your life on the process while beating up your body and spending many thousands of dollars on something that is invariably worth less than what you have in it.

As the movie “The Girl Next Door” made famous, you do at some point have to ask yourself a question: “Is the juice worth the squeeze?” 

At this point in my life, I have a garage full of really cool cars. I have the satisfaction of knowing, and telling people, that I restored most of them myself. I have shown cars (and even won occasionally) at places like The Amelia. I have raced vintage cars (that I have restored) at tracks from Watkins Glen to Laguna Seca. I have participated in (and put on) driving tours from coast to coast as well as in Europe and Canada.

Still, I generally choose to work on the next car instead of enjoying the one I just finished. I’m trying to slow down and enjoy my cars even more. But this leopard is slow to change its spots.

Ultimately, I do feel the juice was worth the squeeze, but as my wife pointed out, I could have restored an E-type for what I have in that Bugeye. Point taken, and of course, but having a bit more resources than I used to makes this fantasy a bit closer to reality. 

So, you will see me build a little less, pick my projects a bit more carefully, and hopefully enjoy my cars as much as I work on them.

Now please, can you help me decide what to do with that darn Morgan.

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